by Aaron Hodges
The trip did not take long. A few quick turns down the brightly lit corridors, and Halt drew to a stop again. He released the chain to Sam’s collar and nodded at the door. “I’ll give you some time to get reacquainted.”
Sam shuddered, his sluggish mind struggling to comprehend what game Halt was playing. He couldn’t believe this was truly happening. Surely it was a trap, some cruel trick to shatter the last traces of his sanity.
But there was no turning back. His heart thudding hard in his chest, Sam reached out and turned the door handle. He stepped inside as the door swung open, leaving the doctor and guards behind. His eyes swept the room, taking in the whitewashed walls and grey linoleum floor. It was empty except for a single hospital bed.
Ashley lay with her eyes closed, the sweaty tangles of her scarlet hair swirling out across the pillows. She wore plain green hospital scrubs, the short sleeves and low collar revealing the full extent of her injuries. Purple bruises marked her face and arms, and red abrasions streaked her chest, bound now by stitches. Needle marks dotted her arms, and tubes and wires encased her elegant body, stretching back to the host of machines sitting at the head of the bed. Her pale white wings hung limply beneath her, tangled with the thin sheets that covered half her body. A familiar steel collar shone around Ashley’s throat, and handcuffs bound her arms to the metal rails running horizontally along the hospital bed.
A wave of relief swept through Sam as he saw her chest move. His heart lurched, his breath catching in his throat. In an instant he had crossed the room.
“Ashley,” he breathed.
Ashley’s eyelids fluttered at the sound. A crease marked her forehead as her eyes opened, her tawny yellow irises shining in the bright light. They widened when she found him standing over her.
“Oh, Sam,” she whispered. “What have they done to you?”
Sam only shook his head. Carefully taking a seat on the side of the bed, he reached out and took one of her hands.
“It was worth it,” he said softly. “You’re alive, Ashley. You’re alive.”
He could hardly believe what he was seeing. In the countless days of torment, in his darkest hours, he had long since convinced himself she was gone, that he had sacrificed himself for nothing. But now here she was, alive and breathing, staring at him with those haunting amber eyes, and it was all he could do not to crumble with the joy in his heart.
Alive.
“What did you do, Sam?” Ashley asked, her voice barely audible over the beeping machines.
Sam attempted a laugh, but a sharp pain pierced his chest, and it turned into a groan. He shook his head. “What I had to. What needed to be done, to save you.”
Ashley closed her eyes a moment, pain flickering across her face. She squeezed his hand, then released him. “You shouldn’t have done this, Sam,” she murmured, and he saw tears glistening in her eyes. “I wanted you to be free.”
Sam wiped away the tear that streaked her cheek. “Sorry, Ash,” he said, smiling, “but you know I make poor decisions when you’re not around.”
Color warmed Ashley’s cheeks. “Sam…”
Sam leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, cutting off whatever she had been about to say. He felt her tense for a second, then she was returning the kiss, tilting back her head, drawing him in. A warm tingle spread through Sam as their tongues met, the taste of her filling him. He ran a hand through her hair, drawing her deeper. The pain of his body melted, giving way to his passion.
A click came from the door, and they pulled quickly apart, turning to see who had entered.
Halt’s thin lips twisted into a smile as he crossed the room. He ignored them as he drew up on the other side of Ashely’s bed. Standing in silence, he studied the screens of the machines connected to Ashley, nodding to himself.
“It looks like she will recover,” he said at last. “With the proper care, of course.”
“What do you want, Halt?” Ashley croaked.
“From you, my dear?” His lips hardened into a frown. “Nothing. For now, it is Samuel we need.”
The agony of Sam’s tortured body returned in a rush, and he felt again the awful helplessness of his tiny prison. Ashley’s fingers tightened around his hand, and there was a glimmer of fear in her eyes.
“Thanks to the unfortunate actions of Doctor Fallow, we have found ourselves short of successful candidates from the project,” Halt continued. “The PERV-A viral strain your group received has proven far less…lethal than our alternative strains.” He pursed his lips. “Of those who received the PERV-B strain, only two remain…intact.”
Sam clenched a fist around the sidebar of Ashley’s bed. “How many have you killed, Halt?”
Ignoring the question, Halt lowered himself into the chair on the opposite side of the bed. “Due to our shortage of viable candidates, I have decided to forgive your past…transgressions.” His lips twisted into a scowl. “We cannot afford to terminate successful candidates, however vexing their actions.”
Sam took a long, shuddering breath, silently cursing the man’s cruelty. Now they could not afford to terminate candidates? For long weeks and months, he had watched children marched from the prison block, never to return. He had stood in a padded room and been forced to choose his own survival over his friend’s. He could still see Jake’s face, his eyes staring up at him, pleading for his life…
The breath caught in his throat and he quickly pushed away the memory. “What do you want, Halt?” he said, echoing Ashley’s earlier question. He summoned as much defiance as he could muster, but even to his own ears, his words lacked conviction.
“If the President and his Director are to continue funding for this project, we must provide them with results. Our successful candidates must be presented to the public.”
Shivering, Sam thought back to the prisoner block, to the lines of staring faces. All gone now, all dead but for the seven of them, and the two candidates who had survived the other strain. His stomach twisted at the horror, at the specter of death hanging over their lives.
And now Halt wanted Sam’s help to continue his monstrous project?
“No.” Sam gritted his teeth. “I’d rather die.”
Halt let out a long breath and shook his head. His smile faded as he turned to look at Ashley. “Such a disappointment.” He spoke the words in barely a whisper.
Before Sam could react, Halt’s hand flashed out and caught Ashley by the wrist.
Sam rose from the bed, his lips curling into a snarl. He clenched his fists, ready to put an end to the monstrous doctor once and for all. He was so furious that even in his weakened state, he was sure he could snap the man’s neck before the guards arrived.
“Stop.” Halt’s command echoed through the room, freezing Sam in place. He nodded to the watch on his wrist, reminding Sam of the collar around his neck. “That’s quite enough. Sit down, Samuel.”
Sam knew he was beaten. Slowly, he lowered himself back into place on the bed.
Halt nodded and returned his attention to Ashley. A cold smile lit his face as he lifted her hand. Her forehead wrinkled with pain at the movement.
“She is still weak,” Halt whispered. “With the drugs and antibiotics in her system, any ordinary human would be in a coma. As it is, they have rendered her no stronger than a child.”
At that, Halt grasped Ashley’s hand. With deliberate slowness, he bent back one of her fingers. Groaning, Ashley tried to pull away, but the handcuffs held her in place. In a rage, Sam started to stand, but Halt lifted his arm, flashing the controller on his wrist.
“Fallow’s commands have been overridden, so I suggest you sit, Samuel. I doubt your friend is strong enough to survive the shock from her collar.”
His words ignited a terrible fear in Sam. Ashley lay in the bed, her eyes shining with the pain, but she did not speak. Halt still held her finger, bending it backwards to the limit of ordinary movement. Sam and Ashley’s eyes met, and she slowly shook her head.
Sam let out
a long, rattling breath and settled back on the bed.
“Very good,” Halt whispered, “but it is too little, too late. You are a slow learner, Samuel, and so another lesson must be given.” He punctuated his words with a sharp lurch of his wrist, and something went crack.
Beside Sam, Ashley threw back her head and screamed. She thrashed in the bed, the movements weak and restrained by the handcuffs, her face contorted in agony. Her feet kicked out, as though fighting off some unseen enemy. Sam reached for her, but her cuffed hand threw him back.
On the other side of the bed, Halt still held Ashley’s other hand in an iron grasp. Sam’s eyes trailed down her arm, to where one finger was now bent at an awful angle.
“You bast—”
Without taking his eyes from Sam, Halt jerked his hand. Another crack followed and Ashley shrieked again, her free hand clawing at the metal bar, powerless to escape. Her screams faded and her eyes rolled back in her skull. Before she could lose consciousness, Halt tugged at her broken finger, and the focus returned to her eyes. A low whimper came from her throat as her eyes found Sam, begging him to save her.
“Move an inch, Samuel, and I’ll break another,” Halt growled.
Ashley lay taut as a wire, her hair a tangled mess around her face, her good hand clenched tight around Sam’s wrist now.
“Please,” Sam whispered, biting back tears. This was worse than the cells, worse than the collars, worse than his silent beatings in the whitewashed room. “Please, stop. I’ll do whatever you want.”
Halt’s smile spread. “Very good, Samuel,” he whispered. “I always had faith you would come around to our way of thinking.” He released her hand.
Tears streaked Ashley’s face as she stifled a sob. Sam’s heart warmed at the defiance in her eyes, but they both knew there was no resisting this man. He had proven time and again that his cruelty knew no bounds, that no one was beyond his power.
“Tomorrow, we will move you both to our complex in San Francisco,” Halt continued. “You, Samuel, will join the survivors of the B-strain. They are still uncomfortable with their abilities. You will show them what they are capable of. In a week, the three of you will be presented to the public. You will be the new face of our fight against the Chead, the shining light of hope. Do you understand?”
Sam nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
“Good.” Halt’s gaze flickered to Ashley. “So long as you cooperate, Ashley will receive the best of care. One day soon, I hope she will join you. For now, though, her wellbeing is in your hands, Samuel. Fail us, and I will make you watch as I break every bone in her little body.”
At that, Halt caught another of Ashley’s fingers in his slender hand. He gave a sharp twist, shattering the bone in one swift, violent movement.
6
“Your brother? That’s not possible…” Liz muttered, before she realized what she’d said.
She tried to take her words back, but it was already too late. Silently she cursed as Mira retreated across the room. Finding herself in the corner, the girl crumpled to the ground and curled into a ball. Harsh sobs followed as the grey wings rose to cover her again.
To Liz’s surprise, Jasmine strode past her and crouched beside Mira. Wrapping the girl in her arms, she glared up at Liz. “Well done,” Jasmine hissed, “and I thought I was the blunt one.”
Guilt welled in Liz’s chest, but as she started towards the others, the girl growled. Liz froze, her heart inexplicably beginning to race, and she took a quick step back again. She had felt the girl’s potency just a moment earlier, and despite Liz’s own strength, one look into the girl’s mismatched eyes was enough to give her second thoughts about grabbing her.
Movement came from the entrance as the boys returned. They had found an old potato sack somewhere and filled it with fruit from the trees behind the house. Her stomach growled at the sight.
“You did well,” Chris said softly, offering her an apple. He grinned. “Well, better than me anyway.”
Liz took the apple with a smile and pulled him to her. Her fear faded as his arms went around her, and for a second she closed her eyes, letting the worries of the world recede. But even in Chris’s strong embrace, Liz could not quite banish her dread.
She knew it was not just the girl. It was everything that had happened since their escape. The soldiers, the helicopter, the Chead. Things were spinning out of control, and she felt as though they were all racing towards some terrible, awful fate.
When they finally separated, Liz kissed Chris lightly on the cheek before facing the room. Mira had somewhat recovered, but her lips remained clamped shut, and no amount of prodding would get her talking again.
Liz moved to the window and looked out through the dust-streaked glass. Her stomach clenched with the realization that the boys were back inside—there was no one keeping watch. Cursing under her breath, she peered outside, her heart suddenly racing.
The midday sun beat down on the iron-roofed buildings, harsh and unforgiving despite the cold winds blowing down from the mountains. Relentless heat was a grim reality of life on the prairies. Her parents and their farmhands had worked the early mornings and late evenings to avoid the scorching sun, taking siestas from midday into the afternoon. But even with those precautions, heatstroke and dehydration were common.
Liz stood for a long time at the window, her eyes searching the shadows. Her stomach twisted with unease, refusing to be quelled by the silence outside. It swirled and shrank, and a wave of nausea rose in her throat. Prickles of fear spread down her spine as she finally turned back to the others.
“We should go,” she announced, surprising herself.
The others stared back. Richard frowned and Jasmine snorted. Even Mira took a moment to look up. Only Chris seemed to take her seriously.
“What?” he asked.
Liz looked around their little group, her urgency growing. “I think we should get out of here, right now.”
Jasmine pulled herself to her feet, one hand still resting in Mira’s grey hair. “It’s got to be a hundred and twenty outside,” she argued. “I don’t know about you, but I’d like to keep my skin intact.”
“What’s wrong, Liz?” Chris ignored the others, his eyes on hers.
She shook her head. “I’m not sure. It just doesn’t feel right, staying here. Not after the Chead…”
“They were pretty quick to take off, Liz,” Richard replied. “I don’t think they’re coming back.”
“I know,” Liz murmured. She bit her lip. “I still don’t like it. If they could find us so easily, how long before the soldiers do the same? And what if the Chead were followed here?”
As she spoke the words, Liz’s sense of urgency exploded, like sparks catching in leaf litter. In her mind, she pictured soldiers creeping through the woods around the house, rifles held at the ready. Suppressing a shriek, she reached out and grabbed Chris by the wrist.
“The Chead could have led them right to us,” she hissed.
Chris stared back, his hazel eyes dark in the shadows of the room. Then he was nodding, spinning to face the others, words tumbling from his mouth. “Liz is right,” he said, already moving.
Sweeping up the heavy jacket he’d claimed as his own, Chris looked around the room. Liz’s fear was spreading as the others realized the sense in her words. Richard moved into the kitchen and collected the sack of fruit, while Jasmine grabbed up the bundle of jackets they’d piled in the corner. She tossed one to Richard as he emerged from the kitchen, before offering one to Liz.
Richard took the lead, sack slung over one shoulder, jacket bundled under arm. Jasmine came after him, leading Mira by the hand, while Liz and Chris brought up the rear.
Liz paused in the doorway, turning to cast a final glance over the living room. Grief rose in her throat. Even empty, without furniture or family, this was still her home. Her two years on the run had not changed that. This was where she had taken her first steps, where her father had taught her to tie a lasso. It was
where she had been loved, where she had been safe. It was the last connection to her past, to her mother and father and friends.
She turned away as tears blurred her vision. Something tore inside her as she moved down the corridor after the others, as though something precious and fragile had been shattered. She held her breath, struggling to keep back the tears, and rushed out her front door.
“Where do we go?” Richard asked as she emerged into the sunlight.
“Into the forest,” Liz croaked, “up the mountain to the tree line. We can’t risk flying, not if they’re watching. We’ll make better time moving at the forest edge, but we’ll still be under cover.”
Richard nodded and started into the woods. Together, they worked their way into the scrub and up the steep slope, using the low-lying trees as cover. Thick branches twisted overhead, pressing in on them and making movement difficult.
Liz had made the climb many times as a child, but she was older now, no longer small enough to slip easily between the dense branches. Small, sharp stones covered the hillside, and she was grateful for the boots they’d scavenged from her house. She grasped at tree trunks each time her feet slipped, always clambering upwards, her fear driving her on.
Within minutes they were all panting, even their newfound strength and endurance struggling with the steep mountainside. The unstable slope required time and patience, but their frantic rush to clear the ranch left no room for caution.
It took them an hour to reach the tree line.
They were just in time.
Gasping for breath, Liz lowered herself onto the rocky scree as the others collapsed around her. The mountain stretched up another hundred feet to the summit, but from here on the slopes were barren. She looked back at the trees, past the scraggly branches, searching the valley for a last glimpse of her home.
